Page 25 of Second Go-Round

“I’m starved,” I said without turning, and I pulled open the fridge again. “You hungry?”

“Food sounds good.”

God, the timbre of his low voice...

“I’ve got bunny greens, leftover rotisserie chicken...” Squeezing my thighs together, I yanked open the freezer, a grin finally relaxing me. “Frozen waffles and Canadian bacon. Score.”

“Bacon makes everything better.”

I grabbed a frying pan, trying like hell to forget the presence of male perfection seeming to steal the air from my small kitchen.

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked.

As if I could survive being all domestic and shit with the man. I reconsidered how to best cook our food to get onto the next order of events for our night together. “Pretty sure I can toast frozen waffles and nuke some bacon.” I motioned to the table before putting the frying pan back where I’d found it. “Have a seat.”

Three slices each into the microwave finished off the pack, and I moved into the living room to click on the TV for distraction. “Want a beer?” I asked, striding into the kitchen, still without looking at him.

“Water’s good.”

“Ice?”

“No, thanks.”

I flipped the switch on my faucet to turn on the filter and filled a glass, my belly squirming around like a kid who’d done something wrong and was waiting to be found out.

“Thank you,” he murmured as I sat his drink on the table in front of him without making eye contact. “You okay?”

Nope. No way. You’ve ruined me.

“Mmm,” I hummed an affirmative regardless of my churning insides and popped two waffles into my toaster. He stayed quiet behind me as I pulled the butter and syrup from the fridge. Since I hadn’t kicked him out like all the other guys—and had at least one last fuck with my paid escort before night’s end—I forced myself to look at him.

The sight of Jarod stole my breath.

His mussed dark hair was a riotous mess because of my hands. Those dark, mysterious eyes seemed to see straight down to the deepest parts of me. A shirtless chest showed off ripped muscles...

My tongue wanted a taste. Lips tingled as his lifted in a slow smirk.

I forced a smile in return even as the hairs on my nape rose to attention. Shit inside my head and the atmosphere around us needed to be put back to cold reality. The toaster dinged, and I turned away again to busy myself popping in two more.

“Elite’s like the perfect job,” I said, cringing as I forced myself to speak. “Get paid to fuck with no strings attached. Any chance you could put in a good word for me? I could use a second income.”

Jarod cleared his throat as I turned with our plates, my breath held. A furrow lined his forehead, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “It helps to pay the bills.”

I set his plate in front of him. “But?” I asked, sliding onto the chair across from him.

“No buts.”

“Then why the frown?” I poured syrup over my waffles and slid the bottle across the table to him as though unfazed by his close proximity that had my nerves on edge.

Fists clenched on the table beside his plate, he lifted his gaze to my face.

My squirming insides tumbled head over heels at his inquisitive stare. “What?” I asked before shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth to give myself something to do.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nothing.”

I focused on my food and tried not to fidget until he finally picked up the syrup. We ate in tense silence that strangely wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Got a couple more in the box if you’re still hungry,” I said.

---